Dragon's Descent [Xianxia, Reverse Cultivation]

Floodwaters rose like living things, consuming the landscape with the inevitability of summer heat consuming winter snow.

Xiaolong stood beside the partially completed eastern barrier, watching Li Feng coordinate construction efforts that had accelerated following their encounter with Zhang and Grandmother Willow-Stream. Villagers hauled stones twice their weight, carved spiritual channels until their hands bled, and maintained formation positions despite exhaustion that made their bones ache.

Li Feng's own movements displayed the dignity of a being pushed to the edge of physical limits yet determined to remain upright no matter the cost. His wooden sword balanced him as much as it directed villagers to optimal positions.

"These support beams won't hold if the water gets much higher," Lingxin announced, examining the eastern barrier's wooden framework. His carpenter's eye detected stress patterns that would escape normal observation. "Wood's solid enough, but the joints are already flexing more than I like."

"Can you reinforce them?" Li Feng asked, his attention split between Lingxin and supervising formation shifts among the villagers.

"Give me an hour and some proper iron bracing," Lingxin replied, wiping sawdust from his beard. "But that assumes we've got an hour before things get really interesting."

Farmer Wong looked up from his earth-working, mud coating his arms to the elbows. "River's moving faster than it should," he observed bluntly. "Been watching water my whole life, and this isn't normal seasonal behavior."

"Define normal," Widow Cai said, adjusting the spiritual channel she had been carving into stone. Her minor water affinity gave her unusual sensitivity to aquatic moods. "Because the water's been whispering things that don't sound like regular flood talk."

Li Feng's attention sharpened. "What sort of things?"

"Angry things," she replied, her voice dropping to match the gravity of her observation. "Like it's been pushed around by something bigger and isn't happy about being told where to go."

Xiaolong contributed where possible without betraying her draconic nature, employing subtle environmental manipulations rather than direct displays of power. Trees fell along optimal trajectories to provide raw materials, mud formed unusually solid footing for construction crews, and water sources remained clear despite contaminants carried by rain-swollen streams.

Li Feng noticed but did not comment on these coincidences, his gratitude expressed through discreet smiles rather than verbal acknowledgment. Their partnership deepened through shared purpose even as Xiaolong struggled with powers that responded to emotion rather than conscious control, and the persistent temptation to simply shape the floodwaters as a dragon rather than a cultivator.

"Stone's settling better today," Farmer Wong observed, testing the foundation work they had completed the previous afternoon. "Almost like the ground wants to cooperate."

Widow Cai looked up from her work carving spiritual channels into stone foundations. Her minor water affinity allowed her to sense the flow patterns that would guide flood runoff toward designated overflow areas. "Water's eager too. Channels are cutting deeper than they should with just hand tools."

"Maybe the shrine's blessing is helping," Lingxin suggested, testing a support beam's stability by leaning all his weight on it. "Grandmother Willow-Stream seemed pleased that we were fixing things instead of just building over them."

Elder Duan nodded approvingly. "Old spirits appreciate respect. My grandmother always said the water guardians would help those who worked with nature instead of against it."

Xiaolong listened silently, observing subtle indications of her draconic power's influence without acknowledging her role in the day's remarkable productivity.

Beside her, Hui Yun maintained his own peculiar brand of non-interference, commenting on the unfolding drama with a fox's air of amused detachment. His mischievous commentary provided Xiaolong with emotional grounding even as it occasionally tested her self-control.

"You know, I've always appreciated the concept of boundaries," the fox spirit remarked, gazing at the swollen river. "The dividing line between safety and danger, routine and calamity. It's such a neat way of pretending that life can be divided into clear categories."

Xiaolong restrained herself from poking the fox's infuriatingly cheerful countenance.

"Borders can hold significance beyond mere labeling," she observed instead. "They represent an agreement between disparate powers."

"So do treaties between humans," Hui Yun replied, flicking his tails idly. "Do they last forever? Do mountains never fall, or rivers never shift? I admire your faith in delineations, but I fear this evening's events may shake your convictions."

"Your counsel is, as always, illuminating," Xiaolong muttered, suppressing an urge to transform and become the sort of geological inconvenience even mountains must respect.

The villagers worked with renewed energy despite their exhaustion, buoyed by yesterday's successful collaboration and the tangible progress they could see taking shape around them. The eastern barrier's foundation anchored solidly into bedrock, overflow channels carved precise paths for directing excess water away from vulnerable structures, and wooden frameworks provided flexible support that could bend without breaking under pressure.

"Senior Li Feng," Wong called from his position near the northern drainage channel. "This old waterway Daoist Xiaolong spotted—it's clearing easier than it should. Stone's coming loose like it wants to be moved."

Li Feng paused in his supervision of foundation work to examine Wong's progress. The partially filled channel that Xiaolong had identified through vegetation patterns was indeed revealing itself with minimal excavation. Ancient stonework emerged from centuries of accumulated sediment, carved surfaces still sharp despite their age.

"Excellent craftsmanship," Li Feng observed, running his fingers along water-smoothed granite. "This predates the village by generations. The original builders understood flood patterns better than we initially realized."

"Smart folks," Lingxin agreed, studying the channel's engineering. "Built it to handle more water than this valley usually sees. Makes you wonder what they knew that we don't."

"Old-timers saw bigger floods," Elder Duan said matter-of-factly. "Grandmother's stories talked about waters that covered the whole lower valley. This channel would handle that, easy."

"Daoist Xiaolong," Widow Cai called during a brief rest break. "You've been quiet this morning. Everything well?"

Xiaolong realized she had been observing rather than participating for the past hour, lost in contemplation of the morning's events. Her tendency toward introspection had manifested more strongly following her reverse cultivation choices.

"Merely appreciating the efficiency of your coordination," she replied. "Such systematic cooperation requires considerable skill."

"Forty years of working together teaches you things," Elder Duan said with satisfaction. "We know who's good at what, who needs help with what, and how to get things done without stepping on each other's toes."

"Most of the time," Wong added with a grin. "Though Lingxin still thinks his way's the only right way to set foundation stones."

"Because my way works," Lingxin shot back good-naturedly. "Your way just moves dirt around until it gets tired of fighting you."

"Both approaches have merit," Li Feng interjected diplomatically. "Different situations call for different techniques."

The gentle teasing continued as they returned to their work, but Xiaolong noted the underlying affection that made their banter possible. These people had weathered crises together, knew each other's strengths and weaknesses, and maintained relationships that transcended mere cooperation.

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She found herself envying their casual intimacy—the sort of connection that developed through shared experience rather than formal alliance. Her own relationships, even with ancient peers like Yinlong, maintained ceremonial distance that honored individual sovereignty while preventing genuine closeness.

Li Feng appeared at her side, having noticed her contemplative mood.

"You seem troubled by something," he observed quietly.

"Not troubled," she replied after considering her words. "Frustrated, perhaps."

"About the construction progress?"

"About my role in it." She gestured toward the busy construction site where villagers worked with easy coordination despite their individual limitations. "I could resolve many of these challenges through direct intervention, yet doing so would undermine everything you're trying to accomplish."

Li Feng studied her face, understanding the deeper implications of her statement. By now, he knew enough about her true nature to recognize the scope of power she was deliberately constraining.

"Your... background... gives you capabilities that could indeed simplify our work," he agreed carefully. "But simple solutions aren't always the right ones."

"Even when people's lives hang in the balance?" The question emerged more sharply than she had intended, revealing the protective instincts that her transformation had intensified rather than diminished. "I watch you pushing yourself beyond safe limits, see these people working desperately against impossible odds, and my every instinct demands that I simply... fix... the situation."

"Yet you don't."

"Yet I don't," she confirmed, frustration evident in her voice. "Because you've taught me that how something is accomplished matters as much as whether it succeeds. But the knowing doesn't make the restraint easier."

Li Feng was quiet for a moment, processing the tension she had revealed between her protective nature and her growing understanding of human values.

"You could end this crisis with a gesture," he said finally. "But then what would we have learned? What strength would we have built for the next challenge?"

"You would be safe," she replied bluntly. "Your people would be protected. Isn't that outcome more important than the philosophical journey to reach it?"

"Is it?" Li Feng asked. "If we survive this through your intervention but learn nothing about working together, facing adversity, or building collective strength—what happens when you're not here to solve the next crisis?"

The question struck at the heart of her dilemma. Her reverse cultivation journey was temporary by definition—eventually she would either complete her transformation or abandon it to return to her true nature. Either outcome would leave Li Feng and his people to face future challenges without her protection.

"You're teaching me to think in longer terms than I'm accustomed to," she admitted. "My perspective tends toward immediate solutions rather than... sustainable development."

"Different timescales," Li Feng observed. "Your experience spans millennia. A crisis that lasts days or weeks must seem fleeting."

"Fleeting, yes. But not insignificant." She turned to meet his gaze directly. "Not anymore."

The admission carried weight that neither of them needed to explain. Her transformation was changing more than her physical capabilities—it was altering her fundamental relationship to time, consequence, and the value of individual mortal lives.

"My protective instincts have grown... complicated," she continued. "I find myself wanting to preserve not just outcomes but experiences. Your growth, their learning, the bonds being forged through shared struggle. Yet preserving those things requires me to accept risks to your welfare that every fiber of my being rebels against."

Li Feng smiled, understanding flickering in his expression. "So you're learning what every parent, every teacher, every leader discovers—that caring for someone sometimes means allowing them to face dangers you could prevent."

"An uncomfortable lesson."

"The most important ones usually are."

A tremor in the earth's spiritual substrate interrupted their conversation—a vibration that spoke of massive water displacement upstream. The disturbance carried emotional resonance that her draconic heritage translated automatically: rage, displacement, territorial violation.

These were not the patient seasonal floods that villagers had learned to accommodate through generations of negotiated coexistence. Something had driven the water spirits from their established territories, and they approached with the fury of refugees forced from ancestral homes.

"Li Feng," she called, her voice cutting through construction noise. The urgency drew immediate attention from everyone within hearing range.

He straightened, his spiritual senses probing northward along the river's course. "I sense disturbance," he agreed, his voice taking on the focused calm she had learned to associate with crisis management. "But the timing..."

A sound like distant thunder rolled down the valley—not atmospheric disturbance but the roar of water moving in volumes that exceeded normal hydraulic capacity. The river's spiritual signature shifted from familiar seasonal patterns to something wild and uncontrolled.

Li Feng's face went pale as comprehension struck. "Everyone to positions! The early surge is carrying spirit manifestations!"

The villagers responded to his urgency without questioning details they lacked cultivation ability to perceive. Tools scattered as construction crews abandoned their work, rushing toward predetermined positions along the defensive perimeter.

"Formation positions!" Li Feng called, moving toward the eastern barrier's primary anchor point. "Nine Streams Convergence—prepare for spiritual channeling!"

"That's the big formation you mentioned," Wong said, his voice tight with concern as he moved toward his assigned position. "The one that's risky for you in your current condition."

"All our preparations are risky in my current condition," Li Feng replied with grim humor. "At least this one provides a chance of success."

The villagers arranged themselves at marked positions around the construction site, their limited cultivation abilities linking through prepared spiritual channels carved into stone and earth during the previous day's work. The formation required exact positioning—each participant serving as a conduit for collective qi flow that would channel through Li Feng as the primary focus.

Xiaolong watched this preparation, her protective instincts warring against hard-won understanding of why she must not interfere beyond subtle assistance. The Nine Streams Convergence was ambitious for cultivators of Li Feng's level, requiring sustained energy circulation that would tax even healthy meridians.

"Remember," Li Feng instructed as they took their places, "maintain steady circulation but don't attempt individual techniques. The formation will amplify and combine your energy, but any deviation from the basic pattern could cause dangerous interference."

"What happens if the interference gets bad?" Widow Cai asked, though her hands were already forming the basic mudras he had taught them.

"Best case scenario, the formation collapses and we lose the amplification," Li Feng said honestly. "Worst case, spiritual backlash could injure anyone connected to the network."

"And you?" Elder Duan pressed. "What happens to you if something goes wrong?"

Li Feng hesitated, then decided on truth. "My meridians are still recovering from recent trauma. Channeling this much energy carries significant risk of permanent damage or worse."

The silence that followed spoke of people calculating whether their survival justified asking him to take such risks on their behalf.

"Is there another way?" Lingxin asked quietly.

"Not if we want the barriers to hold against what's coming," Li Feng replied. "Individual cultivation, even at full strength, couldn't maintain defenses against spiritually enhanced flooding."

Wong nodded grimly. "Then we do what we have to do. But you better not die on us, boy. We've put too much work into these defenses to lose our cultivator now."

"I'll do my best," Li Feng promised, though Xiaolong noted the tremor in his hands as he drew his wooden sword.

She extended her awareness farther upstream, cataloguing the approaching threat. Three distinct spiritual presences rode the flood surge—lesser water spirits displaced from northern territories by forces powerful enough to override ancient territorial claims. Each carried centuries of accumulated resentment at being driven from established domains.

The spirits were not malevolent by nature, but they were desperate and angry. Their displaced energy would amplify the flood's destructive potential far beyond what Li Feng's barriers had been designed to withstand.

"Your meridians remain compromised," she said quietly, moving to his side. "The formation will strain your current limits severely."

"Choices have consequences," he replied, his tone suggesting he understood the stakes fully. "They also create opportunities." He offered a smile that carried more determination than confidence. "If I can channel successfully, we have a real chance."

"If you channel unsuccessfully, you could suffer permanent spiritual damage."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

Xiaolong studied his face, noting the combination of fear and resolution that characterized his approach to impossible challenges. He knew the dangers and accepted them, not from blind heroism but calculated responsibility.

Understanding his choice did nothing to ease the protective fury building in her chest—every instinct demanding she simply sweep aside the approaching threats and preserve this mortal who had somehow become precious to her.

Instead, she nodded and moved to her designated position in the formation. "I will assist where possible without undermining your efforts," she promised.

Her words carried layered meanings she could not fully explain—commitment to supporting his leadership while fighting every impulse to simply solve their problems through overwhelming force.

Li Feng returned her nod before turning his focus inward, preparing for the coming ordeal. His wooden sword gleamed as water-element spiritual energy began flowing through its grain, the humble weapon revealing hidden properties that marked it as masterwork sect craftsmanship.

The sound of approaching water grew louder, carrying undertones that spoke of supernatural fury and displaced power.

The first wave crested the river bend like a wall of liquid fury.